I'm a cypher, wrapped in an enigma, smothered in secret sauce. Also, my name is Kev and I own this here website.
I know, I know. I’ve been missing in action for a little while. And this was AFTER I promised I’d continue to blog regularly during my ridiculously-long, glorious, 16-day vacation.
My sincerest apologies.
I’ve been busy doing some very important, essential tasks. What have I been doing? Well, I’ve been doing a whole lot of what I like to call jack squat.
It’s been magnificent. I’ve gotten to sleep in each morning. I’ve gotten to watch lots of DVDs while drinking lots and lots of Coke Zero. I’ve gotten to relax…a lot.
In a word, it’s been bliss.
That’s not to say there haven’t been any unpleasant moments. On the first day of my vacation, I shaved the beard.
That’s right. The beard is no more. It took me almost an hour to shave off the sucker. Why? Well, for one thing, it was massive. But two, I had to use a woman’s razor, which is far inferior to men’s.
Okay, you’re probably wondering why I used a razor meant for the fairer sex. It was an honest mistake. My blade of choice is a Schick Quattro Titanium. It’s great. I’ve gotten lots and lots of use out of the one razor I own. Unfortunately, my one blade has gotten too dull. I’d buy a replacement blade, but they’re way too expensive. (If you’re wondering how I got my hands on the one blade I own, I received a free sample in the mail. I love free samples.)
Anyway, knowing I needed to shave I picked up some Bic disposable shaves from the grocery store. As I got into the shower and prepared to shave, I noticed something funny about these razors. Their colors were very bright. One was bright orange. The other was bright red. That’s when I took a closer look at them. I’d inadvertently picked up girls’ razors by mistake. Apparently, I need to do a better job reading labels.
Massive beard or no, this particular razor sucked. It clogged way too easily. It had this moisture strip that began oozing everywhere within the first five minutes of shaving. I later relayed my plight to a female friend, and she informed me that it’s an indisputable fact women’s razors are cheap. Men’s razors, according to this source, are far, far better. After this little experience, I’d have to wholeheartedly agree. Female razors suck.
But other than that my vacation has been great. Yep, great.
Oh, Christmas and my birthday also took place the first week of my vacation. But you guys don’t want to hear about that.
Right?
Have yourself a merry little Christmas, Have yourself a merry little Christmas, Once again as in olden days, Someday soon we all will be together,
Let your heart be light
Next year all our troubles will be out of sight
Make the Yule-tide gay,
Next year all our troubles will be miles away.
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Travel near to us once more.
If the fates allow
Until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow.
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now.
It is the last day before my long, glorious, 16-day Christmas vacation. And how am I spending it, you ask? Why, I’m consuming large quantities of caffeine! You see, I didn’t get to bed until almost 3:00 am last night.
What was I doing up so late? I’ll give you three choices as possibilities:
1. I’m Batman.
2. I’m dating a vampire.
3. I had to pick my dad up from from the airport shuttle.
Obviously, all three are plausible possibilities.
Regarding the first possibility, I do occasionally fight crime during my spare time. I once saw a bat in a cave one time, and it didn’t really phase me. Oh, and I own a batman suit.
Regarding the second possibility, I am a fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And I like to eat onions, so my blood is very healthy. Also, I avoid the sun like the plague (have you seen what it’s done to George Hamilton?!), so it’s easy to see why a vampire could confuse me for one of their own.
However, I’m afraid I am going to shock most of you when I say neither of these possibilities is correct. No, I was up late last night because I had to pick up my dad from the airport shuttle. It’s not a high profile job, but — gosh darn it — someone has to do it.
So, anyway, I’m drinking lots of caffeine today. I’ve had Coke Zero, coffee, coffee grounds…anything I can get my hands on. It’s because I’m sleep deprived and wired with caffeine that I think I may have hallucinated earlier today.
My boss’s boss came by my office today and introduced me and my co-worker to either his daughter or his son’s girlfriend. I couldn’t remember which it was because my mind went blank.
After they left, I gathered myself and thought the following:
“It should be against the law for anyone to be that beautiful.”
And I have no doubt what was going through the girl’s mind as she walked away:
“Why did that pale guy with the Batman cape have coffee grounds all over his face?”
In unrelated news, I recently watched The Dark Night.
Awesome movie.
Tomorrow is my last day of work in 2008. Saturday begins a stretch of 16 straight days of work-free utopia. Yes, I know you’re jealous. If not for the fact I have a two-hour meeting this afternoon, I’d be giddy right now.
This feels like the last week of school. At the end of the week there are three months of summer fun waiting for you. Standing in the way are numerous final exams, projects and the realization your parents will soon be seeing your report card. Get through the week and life will be sweet. However, you might not make it. The week could kill you. And then where would you be? Dead, that’s where.
Yeah, it feels like that. The only difference is meetings can literally kill you. I’ve seen it happen. Meetings are that boring.
In related news: Rest in peace, Bob.
I have finally finished my Christmas shopping.
My evenings will no longer be filled browsing Amazon for hours and hours looking for ideas. Now I can go back to watching The Office and House like the good Lord intended.
Did I find good presents? Well, let’s just say no one in my family will have to hunt for socks again anytime soon and leave it at that.
It took 24 days, but my Scott Weiland CD finally arrived yesterday.
It’s beautiful. Two discs, twenty songs and an infinite amount of musical bliss. I’ve been able to listen to most of the songs the past few weeks on YouTube, but it’s just not the same as listening to them in your car. Songs just sound different when you’re stuck in traffic wishing everyone else on the road would die.
However, I have rediscovered a drawback to having such a short commute to work (a friend sent me discs to listen to while driving and I discovered the same problem). When you have a short commute, you have no time to listen to anything. Heck, I barely had time to listen to all of Track 2 (Tangle with your Mind — great song, by the way).
Does this mean I’m going to move and get a longer commute just so I have more time to listen to things in my car? Um, no. It just means I’ll be spending lots of time sitting in my car in the driveway pretending there are cars all around me with dead drivers behind their wheels.
Duh.
Nothing new to report on the beard situation. Although, I did wake up today to find handcuffs, an unopened container of Rogaine, and a bottle of chloroform inches away from my face.
Methinks my beard is plotting something.
Another day has gone by and my beard is still alive.
I’m pretty sure that with each passing day its power grows, so I really should shave it off this weekend. It could be a “now or never” kind of thing.
I can’t have this monstrosity on my face for the rest of my life. It’s too much for me. It itches. If I drink milk, I have a pronounced milk mustache. And even though it keeps my face warm in the winter, I have to imagine it would be sheer torture during summers. I would die. The coroner would rule “death by beard.” My funeral would have to have a closed casket because friends and family would be unable to stomach seeing “the murderer” (aka my beard) up close.
On the bright side, the beard is quite the conversation piece. This morning, a co-worker walked up to me and asked, “So…growing a beard, huh?”
What kind of question is that?
Isn’t it obvious I’m growing a beard? Did she think I was UNAWARE a beard was on my face? Did she expect me to respond, “A beard? Wha??”
I thought about responding with an “I was just about to say the same to you,” but I thought better of it.
I’ve tried to think back and remember another time where I have let my hair grow like this, and I came up with two instances. The first was during the summer before my junior year of high school. I grew a goatee. I looked like a buffalo. It was not a good look for me.
The second time was during one semester in college. I was at a place where I didn’t want anything to do with girls. They hurt my head and I wasn’t too keen on having my head hurt. Believing I attracted females like bags of potato chips attract Rosie O’Donnell, I stopped shaving. Remembering my “buffalo” days, I figured this was a great way to make myself repulsive. “And if a goatee was bad,” I thought to myself, “a full beard would be total female repellent.”
The plan worked. Of course, it’s possible the fact I wore snakeskin cowboy boots that semester had a little to do with it, too. But I digress.
Today, the reasons for my beard can be attributed to forgetfulness (I keep forgetting to buy a new razor), laziness (I would have to get up earlier in the morning to make sure I had time to shave before work), slothfulness (It would take me between 20 and 30 minutes to shave this thing), and forgetfulness. Also, there’s the little matter of girls hurting my head, but that one’s a given.
Of course, it turns out a beard is only repellent to girls who dislike beards.
But again, I digress.
After missing work yesterday due to a witch’s curse, I’m back.
How did I get better so quickly? Well, one, I had a lot of nice people praying for me. Two, my immune system is wicked awesome. And three, I drank a homemade elixir of Coke Zero, peanut butter and veggie pizza (three of the most wonderful things on this planet). Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.
I’m not sure why, but I seem to have grown a beard. I haven’t shaved for four weeks or so.
What’s the deal? Well, it started innocently enough…
“Dang, I overslept. What time is it? Okay, good…I’m only ten minutes behind schedule. I can make that up. I just have to get moving. [In shower] Do I shave? Nah, I shaved yesterday. Besides [looks in mirror], I look awesome.”
“I don’t have the energy to shave. I’m tired. Besides [looks in mirror], I still look awesome. I’m going to write a poem about my face [gets out pen and paper]…”
“Hey, I’ve got that cool ‘not shaved’ look going on like the guy on House. No way am I going to shave now!”
“My…face…itches!! I have GOT to shave off this thing. Of course, because it’s so long now, it will take 20 minutes to shave now instead of ten and I’ll be late for work. And my razor blade is a little worn out…it might rip my face to shreds. [Looks in mirror] Don’t worry face, I would never hurt you. Okay, I’ll buy a new blade after work and shave tonight before I go to bed.”
“Hey, it doesn’t itch as much now. Either I’m past the itching stage, or I’ve killed all the nerve endings by scratching so much. I might as well leave it a little while longer.”
“I kind of look like that actor with that beard in that movie I saw one time. I wonder if anyone will mistake me for him?”
“Someone said I resembled Keanu Reeves. That is NOT who I had in mind! Where’s that razor? This thing is out of here. Dang, I’m running late for work. No time to shave. You win this round, beard.”
“My beard is multiple colors. How strange. Some of the hairs are dark brown, some of them are light brown and some of them are RED. I wonder if I have any blond in me? I’ve got to find out.”
“The girl at CVS smiled at me. Do girls like beards? This requires research.”
“Some dude smiled at me. The research project is officially over. It’s time to terminate. Tomorrow morning, beard go bye-bye.”
“Where did my razor go? It’s not where I left it. Did my brother come over and borrow it? Dang, now my face is itching again! Ahhhhhhhh!”
I have now reached the point where it would take me a good half hour to shave this thing. I only shave in the shower and I shower in the morning before work. So, this means I need to get up thirty minutes early if I want to have time to shave.
Sounds easy, right? You clearly do not know me.
My two-week Christmas vacation begins Saturday. The beard will have to stay until then. Of course, methinks the beard will not go down easy.
I think it’s alive.
I am sick this morning.
My brother’s family has been suffering from a stomach virus this week, and I woke up today feeling the opposite of pleasant. If not for the fact two online friends, who are both sick themselves, plotted in a series of blog comments to pass “the sickness” on to me, I wouldn’t think anything of my current predicament. When family members are sick, there’s a chance I will get sick, too.
But the timing of my illness, on the heels of their hex, makes me believe my friends are dabbling in the black magics.
It’s for that reason I will not name these two friends. I do not want to anger them. I do not want to feel their wrath. I do not want to wake up tomorrow and discover I’ve been turned into a frog.
I had no luck yesterday with my Christmas shopping. I browsed Amazon for several hours. There are just too many options. So, today I’m going to use the eeny, meeny, miny, moe method of Christmas shopping.
Will the gifts end up being good ones? Very doubtful. However, I’m pretty sure the looks on my family’s faces will be priceless. There’s no telling what kind of crazy gifts they’ll get. My brothers could get Rainbrow Brite dolls. My sisters could get Welcome Back Kotter posters. My parents could get Hannah Montana DVDs.
If nothing else, it will be funny.
After my last post where I defamed the name of Best Buy, a regular reader asked why I bought the new Scott Weiland solo CD online at Best Buy instead of at a nearby store. Good question.
You see, Mr. Weiland released two versions of his new record. One was a single CD with 12 songs. The other was a deluxe, double CD with 20 songs. You could buy the former anywhere. However, as of a few weeks ago, you could only buy the latter at Best Buy.
Within two hours of my last post, Best Buy sent me an e-mail telling me my order was about to be shipped. Sometime this week, I’ll finally receive the CD I ordered way back on November 24. It’s about freakin’ time.
The moral of the story? If you want an incompetent store to get its act together, publicly defame them on your blog. They’ll get the message.
Annie was right — the sun did come out tomorrow.
After two straight days of nonstop rain, today is actually a pretty day in my neck of the woods. Now, don’t get me wrong. I like the rain. I’d just like it a lot more if it didn’t get me wet.
It’s been an interesting few weeks in Kevland (that’s right…I still call the city where I live “Kevland”). I’m not bipolar, but I’ve felt like it off and on lately. Thankfully, unlike OJ Simpson, the big three automakers or the ground Rosie O’Donnell walks on, I find myself in a good place as this week comes to an end. Not to go all deep on you or anything, but the following statement makes life so much easier:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.
Awesome, right? I wonder if anyone has ever said that before. I think I should copyright it before any of you jackals out there get your greedy hands on it.
In less happy news, my mom has informed me that I still need to buy Christmas gifts for family members. My assertion that “the comedic goodness that is my blog writing is a more than sufficient gift for everyone” fell on deaf ears. I guess this means I’ll be browsing Amazon all weekend for gifts.
In even less awesome news, Best Buy STILL hasn’t shipped me the Scott Weiland CD I ordered on November 24. An e-mail they sent me yesterday said the item is still back ordered and might not arrive before December 24.
Are you kidding me? I don’t know how much real power I have (my perceived power is awesome and limitless), but I’m going to defame Best Buy’s name. I have no other choice. They have forced my hand.
Good readers of SKOS, heed my words. Best Buy is evil. They punch kittens and newborn babies. They are terrorists. They do not recycle. Worst of all, they do not ship items in a timely manner. Avoid them at all costs, dear friends. Trust me.
That was cathartic. Next time, I’ll defame Old Navy.
How are all of you doing on your Christmas shopping? Have you run into any bad stores you’d like to publicly defame?
I can’t remember the last time it rained this hard. Seriously, it’s raining cats and dogs outside right now. Some guy named Noah just stuck his head in my office and asked if I’d seen two duckbill platypuses wandering around. It’s madness.
Okay, so I wrote another blog post earlier today. It was all serious and introspective and boring. I’m not sure why I bothered posting it. I think the rain messed with my head. There’s something about heavy rain that makes you want to put on some Counting Crows music, sip a cup of coffee and write tedious, boring blog posts.
Now that I got it out of my system, I can talk about what REALLY is on all of your minds: What I am doing for the holidays this year.
“Wow, that is EXACTLY what we were wondering, Kev.”
Yes, yes I know. I’m psychic.
For the holidays, I will be doing what I like to call jack squat. I will be taking a 16-day vacation beginning December 20. Where am I going? Why, it’s a little place I like to call nowhere. I’ll be staying at home. I’ll be catching up on sleep. I’ll be spending time with the family. I’ll be drinking my weight in Coke Zero.
In short, I’ll be having the best vacation ever.
“But Kev, what will we do without your blog posts for 16 whole days?!”
Hush your whining, you. Or else you’ll get the back of my hand.
I’ll have my laptop with me. I will continue to blog. I’ll do an issue or two of DUH! Magazine during that time. I’ll probably ramble about the horrors of Christmas shopping (two weeks to go and I’ve bought ONE measly gift). I’ll probably have at least one story of some girl I bump into while Christmas shopping who, based on nothing substantial, I immediately peg as a gold digger or psychopath. And, heck, it wouldn’t be Christmas if I didn’t go on a controversial tirade after becoming offended by an e-mailer telling me I’m too “nice.”
So, never fear, dear readers. SKOS will continue to do its part to ensure the holidays are the best time of the year.
What do all of YOU have planned for the holidays this year? Anyone going out of town? Anyone doing anything special? As always, leave a comment or two or ten.
I’ve been blogging for a long time. An overwhelming majority of you only started following me in the last year, so this blog is all you know. But I had other blogs before this one. Blogs that I long ago retired for one reason or another. Blogs that have been more or less forgotten. In the toolbar of my Firefox browser, I have shortcuts to each. Occasionally, I’ll go revisit them.
In the early days of my blogging I actually talked about my life. I talked about serious topics. I know those of you who are regulars to SKOS probably find this revelation hard to believe, but it’s true.
I used to give serious advice to people — advice that had nothing to do with leather chaps, snakeskin cowboy boots or insane ways to woo the ladies. Really, I did. Here is an excerpt of a post I wrote back in my teaching days to my senior students about to graduate:
“Each of you, in your own way, will rebel now that you are away from (high school). Some of your rebellion will be something as minor as letting your hair grow out. Others of you may rebel on a much larger scale.
“Just remember that God has a plan for each of you. Even if you get off His path somewhere along the way, He is able to bring you back on track. If something doesn’t go your way, pick yourself up and try to make the best of it. If you make a poor decision in life, do not make it worse by making another poor decision trying to correct it. The things that seem so huge and important at 18 will not seem that way at age 35. Think back to the things that mattered to you at 13 if you need proof.”
If you think that’s something, I also used to discuss music without zinging Christina Aguilera’s lack of shame, Avril Lavigne’s lack of visual appeal or Katy Perry’s lack of talent. Here is a short excerpt of a post I wrote that explained the way I catalog life’s memories through songs:
“Some time ago, it occurred to me that I could track the timeline of my life through songs. Music is more than just a form of entertainment; it brings back memories – good memories, sad memories, memories of friends still cherished, memories of friends that slipped away, memories you want to keep, and memories you wish would just go away.”
Does that even sound like me?
And here is an excerpt of a post I wrote that talked about how a previous trying period in my life would help prepare me for future trying periods:
“It is said that God works in mysterious ways. This statement is often uttered whenever something bad or unexpected happens. It is a comforting thought – even though we do not understand the rhyme or reason in a situation, God has our best interests in mind and, if we’re lucky, we will understand how His hand was guiding us when we look back on it years later.
…
“So, I’m not going to let anything get me down this time around. If I miss out on a job, all that means is it wasn’t the one for me. If one relationship doesn’t work out, I’ll say a prayer and get ready for the next one. If my Jeep breaks down, I’ll go out and buy a 1966 Ford Mustang. If my hair goes prematurely gray, I’ll go buy that Just for Men hair-coloring stuff.”
These aren’t the superficial works of comedic genius most of you have come to expect from me. From the looks of things, I used to be… complicated and kind of deep.
Reading old blog posts you’ve written is like looking through old photo albums of yourself. Memories come flooding back to you.
I read those old posts and try to relate to the younger version of me who wrote them.
When I wrote my first post, I was still a teacher. I had finished graduate school just days earlier. I was coaching baseball and softball. That seems like so long ago.
On that first blog, I met a girl who would eventually move across the country to be with me. We weren’t meant to be and it’s been forever since I last heard from her, but I see numerous posts about her in those old archives.
I see the post I wrote where I announced this girl and I had created a joint blog. I’d forgotten all about this other blog. Most all of the posts I wrote on it were eventually moved here to SKOS, but hers are still there… forgotten. It’s sad. That blog is like a time capsule for a bittersweet, frustrating, somber period of my life.
At some point, the content of my blog posts changed. My serious posts had hints of dry wit in them from time to time, but they were still serious. Eventually, the seriousness went away. It became all about the funny.
I stopped talking about anything going on in my life. I started writing fake humor stories. I started to use my blog as a vehicle for comedic fiction. I would sprinkle things about me into my posts here and there, but in the sarcastic chaos it was difficult for anyone to ascertain what was real and what was made up for comedic effect.
Why the switch? I really don’t know. I guess, in my own way, I’m still complicated and kind of deep.
Or maybe, with the world being such a somber and serious place, I wanted my blog to be a place where I could escape. Yes, I think that’s it. I’m not complicated or deep at all, so that’s got to be it.
Katy Perry still can’t sing, though. Just an FYI.
The handful of you who regularly follow this site have likely noticed that, after weeks of lamenting how I was suffering from writer’s block, the frequency of my blog updates has picked up the last week or so.
Does that mean my writer’s block has disappeared? Well, no. I’m just bored. Bored, bored, bored. Updating my blog, even though I have NOTHING interesting to say as of late, cures the boredom for about thirty minutes or so while I’m at work.
“It can’t be that bad,” you say.
Yes, yes it is.
Thankfully, my weekends are usually entertaining. However, my work days are the stuff of boring legend. Seriously. Someday, boring authors will write about them. Boring parents will talk about my boring work days to their boring children, and their children will show their approval by yawning. The director and cast of The English Patient will one day reunite and turn the dull events of my work days into a boring, inexplicably long, feature-length film.
Let me walk you through a typical work day for me as of late.
After hitting snooze on my alarm clock two or three times, I get in the shower and debate whether or not to shave. It’s been a while since I’ve shaved my face and I’m beginning to look like Grizzly Adams. I look at my razor and notice hairs stuck between the blades from the last time I used it. Running it through water doesn’t get them out. I debate whether or not to “retire” my current toothbrush and use it to scrub the hairs out of the razor blade, but ultimately decide not to shave because the hair makes my face itch. The itching, I rationalize, will give me something else to do during the day.
With the shaving quandary solved, I wash my hair and bathe. I begin to curse the creator of the “scrubbing beads” in my Dial for Men Body Wash because they appear to serve no real purpose other than to adhere to my skin and not let go. It’s like having glitter all over me — I have to rinse forever to make sure it’s all gone. Methinks their creator was a sadistic moron.
I finish my shower, dress and go to work. This is where the fun really begins. I login to my computer and check my e-mail. A handful of times each day, I’ll get a notification that someone has left me a comment here on SKOS. I’ll occasionally get a legit letter from someone I know. I’ll even get a marriage proposal once in a blue moon. Those are usually entertaining. However, for the most part I receive junk letters and meeting invites for work projects. You haven’t endured true boredom until you’ve sat in a two-hour meeting for some project that has an acronym for a name that’s 8 letters long.
After reading my e-mail, my work day begins. My job has lots of peaks and valleys. Some weeks I have lots and lots of work to do. Those weeks fly by. I love them. However, some weeks I have virtually nothing to do. That has been the case lately. So, each day I get to stretch two hours of work into eight hours. Such days are slower and more boring than a Harrison Ford interview. (Seriously, have you ever watched an interview with this guy? He can put crack addicts to sleep.)
With lots of down time at work, I try to entertain myself as best I can. I read a few blogs. I leave some blog comments. I stare at the bare wall in my office (if you look closely you can see a crack in it). I’ve experimented with improving the awesome goodness that is French Vanilla Coffee Creamer (if you add just a drop of Hazelnut, it takes on a whole new flavor). I try to do some online Christmas shopping at Amazon (my mom will hate it, but Tommy Boy on DVD for $3.74 is a frugal shopper’s dream).
It’s just been brought to my attention that I have a project meeting to attend in a few minutes. I have only just begun relaying the extreme boredom that is my work day, but I think you all get the idea.
What can be done to cure my boredom? Well, I guess you could pray my workload increases. If I have more to do at work, the days will go by much faster. You could also leave me lots and lots of comments to read. Those are fun. Oh, and you all could start updating your blogs more frequently so I can have more interesting things to read.
And, of course, if you’re a single female, you could always send me marriage proposals. Of course, if my days get any more boring, I might have to remove the “single” condition.
You could hear a mime scream at my work right now. I’m one of a very small handful still in the office building. Where is everyone? Well, they all went home early. Today is the day of our office Christmas party. I’m not sure why they had it so early in the month, but then again I don’t care. You see, as is my tradition, I am skipping the party.
Why, you ask? Well, there are two reasons. One, they have the party at peculiar places every year. This year the party’s at Outback Steakhouse. (Seriously, people? Outback Steakhouse?) The second reason, the main reason, is simple: I am young(ish) and single, and my co-workers are older and married.
I can handle hanging out with older guys and gals. I do it every day at work. I can handle hanging out with married couples. Most of my friends are married. However, I just can’t stomach the idea of meshing the two. The married co-workers will be hanging out with their spouses. I’d be a third wheel if I talked to any of them. And the handful of single co-workers I could talk to are all a couple decades older than me. What would we talk about? The 60s, shopping for antiques, taking naps, Murder She Wrote?
I’m as big of an Angela Lansbury as the next guy, but come on.
So, I’m sitting here in my office. The quiet is nice, but the boredom is getting to me. Oh sure, reading about O.J. Simpson finally being put behind bars picked things up a bit. And even though Best Buy still hasn’t shipped the album I ordered, an empty office building means I can listen to some Scott Weiland songs on YouTube. My early favorites can be heard here, here and here if anyone’s interested.
However, no amount of O.J. incarceration or Scott Weiland melodic goodness can cure my boredom.
Sigh.
